Other
by Speeder9319
Summary: I was worried, you needed a category to be Sorted, and Sorted to be Matched. My mother told me I'd be put in the category "Other". I didn't like the sound of it. But who knew someone perfect for me would be an "Other"?
1. Chapter 1

HI! I'M REALLY NOT BOTHERED TO TURN OFF CAPSLOCK… Oh, wait, yep, I just got bothered (feel free to applaud…)

Anyway… I love Matched and Crossed, and when I went onto its Fanfiction, it had less than 55 stories! (Cue gasps) So I decided I needed to contribute some stories (I have another one in the workings…)

So, this is an original character Match, set wa-a-a-a-ay before Ky and Cassia, so it has nothing to do with the uprising, just your run-of-the-mill Match. Because I'm bored, and had an idea…

So please, read review and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Matched. Way to remind me that I don't own anything… now I'm sad… L

Chapter 1.

Teal silk, a string of pearls.

Excitement, nerves.

Lilies, chocolate.

Laughing, talking.

Familiar faces, bright colours.

The Match banquet. _My _Match banquet. Easily the best day of my life so far, because this is the first day of my life, really. Because this is the end of the end, the beginning of the beginning. Everything will be different from now on.

Everything's new and exciting. The teal silk is sleek and shiny beneath my fingertips, against my legs. My tummy feels like its filled with butterflies, their wings caressing my stomach, not unpleasant, just… weird.

I'm the only girl wearing teal, and all the parents are wearing brown plainclothes. This is one day of few I'm wearing anything other than brown. We _do _wear black when we swim, and navy blue when we get our permanent work positions, though, but that's it. This is one day when I don't fade into the background. The Official said it was expected for me to choose this colour, because girls like dressed that compliment their eyes.

Teal eyes. Atypical, because the Society makes sure there is nothing unusual or unexpected. But atypical is something they can't control. They couldn't predict that my eyes would be the perfect blend of my mother's emerald and my father's azure. This bothered me a little, what with the Sorting, and all. For the Matching, you're paired up due to a number of tiny details, one of which is physical appearance. Hair colour, height, weight, eye colour, physique, skin tone. Eye colour. The categories are simple: blue, green, grey, brown, hazel. You need a category to be sorted and sorted to be Matched.

My mother said I'd be put in the category "other". I didn't like the sound of it. _Other. _

Apart from that, my appearance is regular. Black, straight hair, pale as snow skin, small, straight nose, petite, delicate. I'm short, only five feet one inch, I'm like my mother. My siblings, my two twin brothers and two twin sisters are all tall, like my father. So I will probably end up with a tall, strong, tanned, blond. Or someone exactly like me, you just never know, you could be Matched with a boy who could be your twin, or your polar opposite. I don't care which he is, because I know he will be perfect for me.

I'm in the City Hall, in the banquet room, waiting. My name is Clara Young. I'll probably be one of the last to be sorted, so I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? I shouldn't be nervous. Studies have shown its normal to be nervous, 78% of Matchees are, I was hoping to be a part of the 12% that were calm.

I thought about the green tablet, the one that will calm me down, at least half the girls I know took theirs' before now. I haven't, it seems weak. I'm not going to be weak. So, green tablet-less, I'm sitting with my parents barely eating. And I wish I could eat, because I bet it tastes good. Also because my food portions have been compromised, so I could eat tonight. The Society says we should only eat enough food to carry us to the next meal, no more. Its all bland and tasteless, no enjoyment in it. Until now, when I should be enjoying the food, like I should be. But I can't, so I don't.

'The Matching will now begin,'

Its exciting to watch the Matching, my best friend, Jess Adams, is first.

'Mother, can I have my glasses? I want to see,' I murmured.

She hands them over to me, she's been keeping them in her bag, because I have nowhere to put them.

I slide them onto the bridge of my nose, so I could see everything.

Jess's picture flashes on the large screen in the middle of the Hall, so she hastens to smile alluringly, knowing she'd see her Match in a matter of moments. Until then, the boys' half of the screen is white.

'Jessica Adams you are Matched with…' they always pause, I kind of resent them for it, 'Connor James!'

The boy on screen stands up, smiling. He has brown hair and grey eyes, handsome.

He seems happy with his Match, why wouldn't he be?- Jess was stunning.

An Official hands her a silver microcard, with all the details of her Match in it. She beams, delighted to have her future in her hands.

They go through the Matchees, one by one, I felt sorry for the boys, who had absolutely no idea when they were going to have to stand up. One boy fell off his chair in the shock of his name being called out.

'Clara Young,'

I was last, every other Matchee has a microcard in their hands. All eyes are on me.

I take a deep breath, push my glasses further up my nose, and stand. Shoulders back, chin forward, smile in place.

'Clara Young, your Match is…'

They pause, drawing it out, the left hand side of the screen still white. It feels like an hour later when they call out his name.

'Ayden Hughes,'

A boy stands up, tall, very tall in fact. Blond, curly hair that falls into his eyes. Broad shouldered, muscular. Square jawed, straight nosed.

That isn't what intrigued me though. Ayden is undeniably handsome, the sort of face that would make girls melt, myself included. But it is his eyes that caught my interest. They are the colour of pure ginger. The perfect mixture of orange and brown.

I'm willing to bet he'd been put in the eye colour category "other".

I suddenly like the sound of _Other._


	2. Chapter 2

**HEEEEEEYYYYYY!**

**First things first, thanks to Wadawa, who reviewed: it made me squeal like a fan girl (but, to be perfectly honest it doesn't take an awful lot to make me squeal like a fan girl, since I fan girl squeal about nearly everything) but anyway, thanks!**

**And to every other person: review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review reviewreview review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review reviewreview review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review reviewreview review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review reviewreview review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review (Desperate? Pushy? Who, me?)**

**So this chapter is in Ayden's POV, just for funsies… and, as we Irish say, the crack… and also multiple POVs is fun…**

**Disclaimer: Today I walked into a door frame, I think I'm going to have a black eye, which is just ****_great_****. On a completely unrelated subject, I don't own Matched…**

Matching. Some say its more for the girls than boys. I agree, I suppose, we don't care about the dressing up, we don't gossip about it for weeks, we don't fantasise about the mystery girl or have to take the green tablet. We're… not indifferent about it, but we're definitely less excited than the girls. We're excited, of course, but we're not screaming and squealing and jumping all around about it.

Even so, I couldn't sleep last night at all because of it. Its weird, knowing your life will change in less than twenty four hours. Really weird.

A couple hours before the banquet, my mother told me to get ready. Who on earth need hours to get changed into clothes? Turns out, _I _did. How was I supposed to know that a tie would be so damn hard to put on? It took me about an hour to figure it out, because we don't wear them with out plainclothes. Alec and Austin had a good laugh over that. They have a good laugh about anything their "baby brother" does, to be honest. I can't believe Austin is getting married in a year, he is about as mature as my six year old cousin.

So with the burnt-orange coloured tie _finally _tied properly, we left the house to get the air train.

'Well aren't you handsome?' My friend, Louise joked, playfully shoving me. She finger the tie.

'Brings out your eyes,' she commented, referring to my orange brown eyes.

Atypical, like the girl two years behind myself and Louise in Second School who was born with Albinism. Her eyes are pinkish red and her hair and skin are white as snow. Things like that usually don't happen in the Society, but accidents happen.

I have my mother's eyes, Alec and Austin have my father's brown. The three of us are built like our father, though, tall and broad. I'm six feet four, an inch or two smaller that my brothers. And don't they love to bring _that _up?

So I'm in the appearance categories, height: 6"4', skin tone: tanned, hair colour: blond, eye colour: Other.

I kind of like the sound of _Other. _In a world where everything is regulated and perfect, its nice to be different.

Right now, I'm in the City Hall, watching my friends get Matched. I have no idea when I'll be called out, because I don't know when my Match will appear on screen. Any girl on screen, the blonds, brunettes, red-heads, blue eyed, brown eyed, green eyed, tall, short, tanned, pale or Other girls could be my future wife. Weird thought.

Its Louise's turn, she puts on her best smile and stands.

'Louise McCarthy, your Match is…' they draw it out, making her wait, she fidgets slightly. Impatient, like always.

'Norman Lawrence,'

A boy with flaming red hair and freckles stands up, grinning cheekily.

I glance over at Louise, who is fluttering her eyelashes. I remind myself to tease her about that later.

Two of my other friends, John and Sam, are called out, and they both seem happy with their Matchees.

I start strumming my fingers on my leg, nervous. Why am I nervous? I shouldn't be nervous.

Another girl is called out, from the Farmlands. She is pale, her hair pitch black. Her glasses, which make her look intelligent and interesting, can't disguise her eyes, which are the oddest shade of teal, that blue-green colour that reminds me of one of the Hundred Paintings, I just can't put my finger on which one. They contrast beautifully with her pale skin and dark hair, making her look striking. Another Other.

I feel my heart beat faster as the girl smiles, so a dimple pops in her left cheek.

'Clara Young your Match is…'

I can't help but think how lucky the boy who is Matched with her is, then I blush at the thought.

'Ayden Hughes,'

I blink. This girl is meant for _me? _My shock is quickly replaced with joy. This girl is my Match. _My _Match.

I can't help but think about how great the Society is at their job, because I'm pretty sure I fell in love with Clara before I knew she was mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, what's up my readers?**

**I know you're out there somewhere, far too stubborn to review. Remember, people pride isn't poison, so swallow yours! (just felt I should slip that in)**

**So, onto business, FYI, the chapters will go in this order: Clara, Ayden, Clara, Ayden, Clara, Ayden, Clara, Ayden, etc… so today's one is in Clara's POV.**

**Read, review, review, review, review, review, enjoy…**

**Disclaimer: I walked into a door frame, I think I'm going to have a black eye, which is just ****_great_****. I got hit in the leg with a hockey ball today. I wasn't even ****_playing _****hockey. On a completely unrelated subject, I don't own Matched…**

**(this is my new disclaimer format, I tell you whatever misfortune has been bestowed onto me during the course of the day. You, in turn, laugh at the aforementioned misfortune…)**

I'm just home now, after the Banquet. My pulse is still racing. I wonder when it will calm down. Probably not any time soon.

I've always been a calm, collected person, never doing anything irrational or wild. Never overreacting, never the centre of attention, just on the outskirts. This never bothered me, not in the slightest, some are suited for the limelight, I'm not one of them.

But now, I want to tell everyone, _everyone _about my Match: what he looks like, how he makes me feel. How he makes me feel. Like… like I don't know what. I'm still waiting for my heart rate to return to normal and its an hour after the Banquet. Its just plain weird. Are all Matchings like this? I'll ask my mother later.

'How was it?' my sister, Laura, squeals, when I enter the living room.

'Amazing,' I reply. 'Just amazing,'

'Ah, look, our little sister, all grown up,' a voice behind me says teasingly.

'I still remember when she wore ribbons in her hair,' another, almost identical voice adds.

'And now she's Matched,'

'Probably not listening to a word we're saying-'

'-busy thinking about her _Match-'_

'-tell us-'

'-is he handsome?-'

'-is he dreamy?-'

'-is he-'

Damian doesn't have a chance to finish his teasing, because I tackle myself into him, playfully of course.

'My, my, have we acquired a temper in the past four hours?' Darren says, as Damian precedes to mess up my hair into a state of complete disarray.

'Enough, enough,' my mother laughs lightly at our antics.

I try and fail to flatten my hair.

'What _is _he like?' Laura and Lana demand.

'Tall,' I answer lightly.

They roll their eyes, obviously not satisfied.

'Blonde hair, tanned,' I say.

I turn to look pointedly at my two grinning impishly brothers.

'Handsome _and _dreamy,'

Laura and Lana giggle and squeal, and Darren and Damian roll their eyes. You'd swear they hadn't been practically squealing themselves on the night of _their _banquet.

'Orange eyes,' I add, surprising myself with the unmistakable pride and boastfulness in my voice.

'Orange?' Lana questions, widening her own azure blue eyes, identical to Laura's. Damian and Darren have my mother's emerald.

'Yeah,' I beam, 'orange, orangey brown, really, but definitely orange,'

'Weird,' Darren said.

'Like you,'

'Yeah, just like our freaky little sister,' Damian agreed.

'Enough, boys,' Father said.

I smile at my father.

'Can I go out for five minutes, I want to talk to Elsa,' I beg.

'Five minutes,' my mother warns me, gently reminding that if I brake curfew I will be cited.

I skip out of my house to an identical one across the road, my best friend Elsa's house.

I knock on the door, excited to share the news of my Match to my friend.

'Hi!' she squeals, when she opens the door, 'how was it?'

'Oh, Els, it was perfect,' I laugh.

'What's his name?'

'Ayden Hughes,' I say, smiling about it sounds.

'Ooh, Clara Hughes,' she laughs.

I laughed too, thinking that this will be my name in only a few years.

'I can't believe its your turn next month,' I say.

'I know, I'm nervous already,'

'Don't be,' I assure her.

'You look beautiful,' she says, looking at my dress and sighing.

'Why thank you,' I laugh, twirling.

We chat for a few minutes before I leave, returning to my own house.

'Have fun tonight?' my mother asks me when I arrive back in the kitchen.

Darren, Damian, Lana, Laura and Dad have all gone to bed, they have work in the morning. My mother does too, but she almost never goes to bed early, so she is always grumpy in the mornings.

'It was amazing, mum, better than I ever thought it would be,' I smile, sitting down next to her at the kitchen table.

'I'm glad,' she smiles.

'I was wondering… I mean… is it normal that, um,' I trailed off, not sure how to put my feelings into words.

'That you're already crazy about Ayden?' Mother asks, smiling knowingly.

I blush, 'um, yeah… is it?'

'Your father was all I could talk about for a month after the Banquet. Your siblings were no different,'

Laura was Matched with a boy named Jonathan, who lives in Oria, and Lana was Matched with a boy named Ben, who also lives in Oria. They were delighted about this, because it meant they could stay close to each other.

Darren was Matched with a girl named Georgina, who lives in the Eastern Farmlands, and Damian's Match Kelly, lives in the Western Farmlands.

We live in the Northern Farmlands. They're all different, like ours grow grain, the east grow vegetables, the west, fruit, and the south livestock.

'Acadia Province,' my mother says, her voice wistful and excited.

'What about it?' I question, my mother was from Oria, not Acadia.

To my surprise, my mother laughs.

'Too busy looking at his face to know where your Match comes from,'

I blush again, deeper this time, and nod. 'They have sea in Acadia, don't they?' I ask, changing the subject abruptly.

She nods, 'Forest too,'

I smile. 'think he's been to the sea often?'

'Probably,'

'That'll be nice,' I sigh wistfully, thinking about the summers I spent swimming in the pool when I was younger.

'Four more years,' my mother reminds me.

Four more years until the marriage contract. Four years seems like a painfully long time.

_One month until you get to talk to him, though,_ I remind myself, the thought setting my pulse racing again. And I'd just gotten it to calm down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! **  
**OK, I know I haven't updated in ages, and for that I'm really sorry, but I've really been busy, so I'm sure you can forgive me.**  
**Thank you for all the reviews, they made me really happy! J**  
**Thank you to "poppers", who sent me easily the longest review I have ever received. Thank you, and I will try to improve. I am- believe it or not- a complete grammar freak, but I am a human being. You can't say my grammar is that bad! Sure, my author's notes leave a lot to be desired, but the actual story's grammar is all right… **  
**IMPORTANT IMPORTANT IMPORTANT IMPORTANT!**  
**I've changed my mind, I want this story to take during the Rising. Five years before Cassia and Xander and Ky's Matching. Enough time for their relationship to blossom. Cue "ahh"…**  
**I got Reached for Christmas, OH MY GOD, I loved it! So that's why I want to have it to take place during that time. How, oh how will they cope with the Plague… but that's very far down the line.**  
**Today, as promised is an Ayden chapter. I kinda like writing in his POV, later, you will learn, he is kinda sarcastic and satirical, kinda sardonic, to be perfectly honest. But really, he's probably one of the sweetest guys in the world. Especially around Clara. But anyway, just read whatever he's saying in your best sarcastic voice! **  
**Disclaimer: I walked into a door frame, I think I'm going to have a black eye, which is just great. I got hit in the leg with a hockey ball today. I wasn't even playing hockey. I tripped on the stairs, in front of twenty other people, nineteen of whom kept walking. The one who stayed behind couldn't walk because she was laughing so hard. On a completely unrelated subject, I don't own Matched…**

Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara.

Guess who _I_ can't stop thinking about? The second I saw her face on the screen, I knew. I just knew I was a goner. And the way she smiled at me. As if I was exactly what she'd been hoping for. Her expectations mustn't have been that high, then.

But still, something about her… I can just tell that it's not just her bright turquoise eyes that make her different. Not giggly or flirty or anything like the other girls I know. _Cough, cough, _Louise.

I'm just off the air train, walking back to my house with my parents. Even now, she keeps creeping into my thoughts. Like: I have a Hundred History lessons -Clara- test this week. Or: I wonder how I'll -_Clara_- spend my free rec -_Clara_- hours tomorrow.

It's weird, really, really _weird_.

We're just at our house now.

'We're home now!' my mother calls out to the empty living room. Alec and Austin slouch into the room, smirking.

They look so alike they could be twins. Evil twins.

They love to wreak havoc. In a way, I don't feel like a part of the family, when I'm with them _or _my parents.  
My parents are both sorters, very good ones, too. They're very important in the Society, so very busy.

Alec and Austin prefer each other's company to mine. It doesn't bother me all that much given that their main ambition is to annoy me. It's upsetting, though, feeling like a stranger in my own house.

I hate the smirks their wearing. Those smirks mean they're going to do something irritating.

I sigh internally, resist they urge to repeatedly bash my head of a wall. The usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Jumping off the cliffs only a five minute walk away from my house and into the ocean seems wonderful when they're around. If I run I could make it in three…

'Aww,' Alec says, 'he looks so happy,'

I roll my eyes.

'Attitude, little brother,' Austin shakes his head, pretending to be ashamed.

'So, what's her name?' Alec says.

I sit down at the kitchen table, not really wanting to answer, knowing they're getting ready to tease the hell out of me.

'We don't even get to know our future sister in law's name?' Alec gasped.

Oh, to be drowning right now.

'Clara,' I mutter, 'is that enough information to be going on with for the moment?'

'Not really,' Alec smirks.

'Tough,'

'My, my, we are cheeky aren't we?'

_No I'm exasperated, I wasn't trying to be _subtle_ about it._ I think to myself.

'Clara Young. Seventeen. Black hair. Pale skin. Teal eyes. Dimples. The Farmlands. Happy?'

'Extremely,' Austin rolls his eyes.

I sigh internally. 'Glad to hear it,'

'Teal eyes?' Austin wonders, he seemed shocked, which was weird, because, using his words, "I have more than enough experience with freaks, as I am related to one." then he would look pointedly at me, as if to say _this is my freak, there are many others like him, but _this _one is mine._

'Yeah, like the sea on a good day,' I say without thinking, because it was true. Her eyes were the clear, bright blue green of the sea.

'Oh, gosh! I think she's turned our baby brother into a poet!' Austin laughs.

'Are you in _looove _already?' Alec croons.

I roll my eyes, 'Alec, no matter what my answer is you're going to tease me, so I'm not answering,' I respond coolly, hoping he would get bored and leave me alone.

'I'm hurt, little brother,' Alec sniffs.

'Good,'

'Are we annoying you?' Austin wonders innocently.

'No more than usual,' I reply, wrenching off the tie that had given me so much trouble.

We get to keep the tie, just like girls get to keep a patch of their dress.

'So… a lot, right?' Alec asks.

'Yeah,' I sigh, rubbing the skin between my eyebrows with the tips of my fingers.

My brothers are a migraine personified.

They sigh, too, and sit down opposite me.

Austin clears his throat awkwardly.

'Happy for you, little brother,' he says, looking at the ceiling.

'Yeah,' Alec says. Well, that must've taken all of his rather inconsiderable brain power.

That was the best I could hope for with those two.

I hear a knock at the door and I stand up, going to answer it, because things just took a turn for awkward, and none of us really were good with "feelings".

We all use sarcasm to cope with awkward situations.

I cleared my throat, a habit all three of us had.

As much as they annoyed me, I knew I was like my brothers in a lot of ways.

'Thanks,' I mutter gruffly.

'Yeah, um-' _cough, cough,_ '-no problem,' Austin mutters.

'You, my brother, have a way with words,' I grin.

When I open the door, a short figure dressed in red barrels into me.

'Hey, Lou,' I laugh, then look up to roll my eyes at the two boys who stood with her, before she decided to assault me.

'Ayden,' John grins, 'You have a Louise on you,'

I chuckle, 'I think it's stuck,'

'May not come off at all,' Sam muses, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

Louise detaches herself from me, before prattling on nineteen to the dozen.

I roll my eyes.

'Hold it right there,' I smirk, quickly cutting through her babbling.

'What?' she asks.

'Did you have something in your eye, when they called out your Match's name?'

'No, why?' she asks blankly.

I flutter my eyes at her, and she blushes furiously, biting out half formed retorts.

'That is completely- Why does that- You are so- Leave me- Oh, shut up!'

Sam, John and I roar with laughter.

'Why do I even hang out with you?' she asks.

'Because we are a rag-tag bunch of loveable and irresistible miscreants,' Sam responds lightly.

'Right, and I'm the poor, innocent girl who thought she could change you,' she scowls.

'We have ten minutes until curfew,' Sam says, grinning impishly.

Our smiles mirror his.

We were going to spend a few precious minutes by the sea.

'Tell your parents first, silly,' Louise laughs, as I make to close the door.

'They won't care,' I mutter.

'If you're sure…' Louise mutters doubtfully.

She's had more than enough experience with my parents' lack of interest in their kids' lives, but it still baffles her.

They aren't _bad_ parents, just really busy.

Wordlessly, we make our way out of our Borough.

Then, once we leave the regulated peace of the Borough, we begin to run.

I get there first.

None of us step onto the powder fine sand, knowing if we ruined our Banquet clothes or shoes, we'd be cited.

It didn't matter, it was enough to smell the salty, seaweed tinged smell of the sea, listen to the calm, soothing swish of the water and stare out at the water that is the exact colour of Clara Young's eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm back!**  
**It didn't take half as long for me to update this time, did it?**  
**So, whoop-dee-doo! Yippee-ky-frickin'-yay!**  
**That nonsense aside, I have a question-**  
**I received a review saying my story was featured in something called Fanfiction Friday in the Society. If anyone would care to enlighten me as to what that is, it would be much appreciated. **  
**And thank you for all of your reviews, TWENTY. YES, TWENTY, OH MY GOD, THANK YOU!**  
**Keep 'em coming!**  
**Anyway, Clara chapter! Yay!**  
**I've decided, in an attempt for this not to be boring- to fast-forward to the day where they have their first meeting over the port.**  
**Not their actual first meeting, but the stuff they do before that. Because I am a cruel, cruel person.**  
**Sounds fun, right, chatting to your future husband whom you've never met in your life, over the futuristic equivalent of Skype. **  
**One last thing. This is the second most reviewed story in the Matched archive. If it could be the first that'd be great…**  
**So, onto the chapter!**  
**Disclaimer: I walked into a door frame, I think I'm going to have a black eye, which is just great. I got hit in the leg with a hockey ball today. I wasn't even playing hockey. I tripped on the stairs, in front of twenty other people, nineteen of whom kept walking. The one who stayed behind couldn't walk because she was laughing so hard. I was skipping down the hallway in school, when I tripped over my own two feet, twisted my ankle, skinned my knees, whacked my head off the wall. And I dropped my lollipop, that sucked. On a completely unrelated subject, I don't own Matched…**

'And then, you simply start to stitch the skin back up, just like we practised before,' the head surgeon says to the group of ten medical students, including myself.

We're studying transplants, which, while uncommon, are very important.

'Yes,' a funny, slightly cheeky and altogether _annoying_ girl named Poplar says sarcastically, 'but when we practised before, we were stitching up an orange, not a person,'

A chorus of giggles and sniggers goes throughout the room.

'Ha ha, very funny,' the surgeon responds in a bored tone.

I'm training to be a surgeon in the medical department, which isn't for the faint-hearted… or the weak-stomached.

It wasn't easy, and I was only halfway through my training.

The rest of my family work in the arboretum.

My parents were rather shocked when I announced- at age five- that I was going to work as a doctor.

The reason behind my fascination at such a young age was that I'd tripped while playing in the yard in First school, and a medic had to be called, because I'd split my chin open.

They were so calm as they stitched me up, and they looked so professional and in control in their navy blue plainclothes and white jackets.

My fascination progressed when I was eight, and Darren hit his head off the table. I sat him down, checked his head for a bump, and made sure he was alright.

Things went from there. I wasn't in the least squeamish, and the idea of helping people made me happy.

We file out of the cadaver lab.

Not before, of course, Poplar did her usual routine of shaking the hands of the dead bodies and thanking them for their time and patience.

She is either going to be a terrible surgeon or a brilliant one.

She runs up to join me, grinning her usual mischievous grin.

'So, excited about tonight?' she smiled sweetly.

Tonight is the first port-to-port communication with our Matches, of _course _I'm excited.

'Yes,' I respond absentmindedly, because she is blatantly ignoring the fact that I'm translating the notes I'd made in the lesson from shorthand into plain English.

It isn't easy to do this on the scribe. You had to turn it onto shorthand mode, then translate it manually. Most people don't bother, because all the information we need is in one of the Hundred Textbooks- number 63, the Medical Book- but I preferred having it all down in my own words.

'Well, you don't sound very excited,' she says, 'which is insane, because I _saw_ your Match at the Banquet and, well,' she sighs, and when I look up, she's fanning her face with one hand, and pressing the back of her other to her forehead, pretending to swoon.

I roll my eyes, biting back the snappy retort that went somewhere along the lines of "_back off, he's mine_".

Instead, I smile sweetly, 'I know, right?' I let out a giggle, 'What does your Match look like?'

'Ugh, I was hoping for tall, dark and handsome, and I got short, pale, and nerdy,' she pauses, looking at me through narrowed eyes, 'Oh, but don't worry, you can pull off that look,'

I blink.

'And I bet your Match will like that about you… Probably,' she smiles, 'Can I borrow your notes?'

I blink again.

'No.' I respond shortly, surprising myself. Usually I don't mind sharing my notes with anyone. We were all going to be surgeons, so what was the harm in helping some one out? They may return the favour in the future.

Poplar was getting on my nerves today. I was nervous enough about what Ayden would think of me already, I didn't need her pointing out all of my flaws.

Poplar pouts, 'Why not?'

I pause, feeling bad. 'Because… I'm not done translating them,'

'Oh, alright,' she smiles.

Once again ignoring the fact that I was busy, she continued to prattle on.

'What colour dress did you wear at the banquet?' she asks.

'Turquoise,' I say wistfully.

I want that dress back. I want the feel of silk and the taste of chocolate and the thrill of butterflies.

The next time I'll be in silk will be my wedding contract. White silk.

'You wore orange,' I say, 'you looked beautiful,'

She flushes slightly, 'Thanks, I wanted to stand out,'

She did, but she would've even if she'd been wearing brown. She was _that_ loud.

The head surgeon dismisses us.

I breathe a sigh of relief. As much as I love being a medic, I love leaving it behind, too.

I'm a far more serious version of myself when I'm working. I don't have a sense of humour when I'm concentrating.

'Well, I'm glad that's over, I was beginning to envy the cadavers,' Poplar says.

I laugh, my sense of humour returning even before I leave the building.

We part ways because she wants to see if there are any new viewings and I'm meeting Jess and Elsa at the game hall.

I join up with Ben and Adam, two boys I've known since first school.

They were there when I split my chin open.

_'Oooh, look, there's blood everywhere, Clara!'_

_'Yeah, you're gonna have a scar, I bet! How cool will that be?'_

_'Yeah, really cool… Are you ok,? You look kinda green…'_

'Hey, Clara,' Ben greets, when I catch up with them.

'Hey, Benny,' I coo sweetly, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Ben is easily one of the cutest people in the world. Cute in a puppy-dog sort of way. He's very short for a boy, has clear, wide blue eyes, curly, ashy blonde hair and dimples. _Dimples_.

His Match was similar, I remember, a petite girl with strawberry blonde curls and a gap between her front teeth. They were literally going to be the cutest couple ever.

Adam is his polar opposite. Tall, broad, muscular, black hair, grey eyes and has chiselled features.

They're best friends, but they like to joke that Adam is Ben's bodyguard.

Adam's Banquet is next month, the same day as Elsa's.

'Are you guys excited?' he asks.

'Kind of,' Ben says, 'Sort of… a bit… or, um, y'know, a lot… yeah, a lot…'

Adam rolls his eyes, 'Bit indecisive, aren't you?'

'I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not sure,' he says sarcastically.

'Nervous?' I ask.

'Yes. Yes, now that I'm sure about. Terrified,' he says, nodding.

'Why?' I ask.

'What if she doesn't like me?' he whines, pouting petulantly.

I laugh, 'She's going to love you, Benny,' I assure him.

'If you say so,' he sighs.

'What about you?' Adam asks.

'Well, I wasn't scared… until I had a chat with Poplar. _Apparently_, I'm short, pale and nerdy,'

They laugh, and Ben wraps an arm around my shoulders.

'Don't listen to her,' Adam says, 'Even if you _are_ short, pale and nerdy, it wasn't very nice of her to point out,'

I playfully elbow his stomach.

We reach the games hall, just as the younger children are swarming out, their free rec hour being directly before ours.

We're the first ones there. The head surgeon always lets us out ten minutes early.

We sit down at one of the tables, as two other medical students join us.

They're two giggly girls, Sophie and Ginger. They were both at the same Banquet as me.

'Hey, Clara,' they giggle.

'I can't believe we get to see our Matches today,' Sophie beams, as Ginger nods excitedly.

'I wish we could wear something pretty,' I sigh.

They nod, 'Brown really isn't my colour,' Ginger says sadly. She had sallow skin, mousy brown hair and brown eyes, so the plainclothes wash her out a bit.

'And I'm going to have to wear my glasses, otherwise I won't be able to see my Match,' I say empathetically.

'Ooh, your Match is just _gorgeous_,' Sophie gushes.

_That seems to be a popular opinion today_, I think to myself, _he is gorgeous, though, really, really... dreamy..._

I blush slightly.

They gush on about my Match and their Matches and Ben's Match and Adam's banquet.

Jess and Elsa arrive, finally, so I have an excuse to leave the far too chatty girls.

_Don't leave me_! Ben mouths as I excuse myself.

_Traitor_! Adam joins in, and I go join my friends.

'Hey, Clara,' Jess smiles when I join them at a table.

'Hi,' I respond.

'Have you stitched anyone up yet?' Elsa asks.

'No, they still only trust us with oranges,' I laugh.

Jess rolls her eyes, 'I'm surprised they even trust you with an orange,'

'I know, I killed one the other day, there was nothing I could do to bring him back,' I say, wiping a fake tear out of my eye.

'His poor family!' Elsa cries

After a few minutes, we here an announcement over the intercom.

'Citizens who are having their port to port communication with their Matches please return to their houses and await further instruction. Thank you,'

A chorus of squeals and laughs go throughout the room.

'Oh, I'm so scared,' Jess whispered.

'Why?'

'I don't know,' she laughs nervously, 'I just am,'

_Me too_, I think to myself.

I'm finally going to talk to Ayden Hughes.

I'm finally going to talk to my Match.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again, dear reader, how are you?**

**If you said I'm great, then good for you, if you didn't, I hope you cheer up soon.**

**Sorry for not updating for a while, but this is the longest chapter I've written (blame the plot bunny), so please forgive me… please?**

**Anyhoo, time for an Ayden chapter when my CHARACTERS ACTUALLY GET TO MEET EACH OTHER!**

**How exciting.**

**So, there will be a lot of sarcasm in this chapter! Yay, sarcasm.**

**If you think they're going to be mushy romantics, you've got another thing coming. They're… well, they're Ayden and Clara.**

**Oh, and does everyone love Poplar? She's actually one of my favourite characters. Let me know, I can incorporate her more into the chapters.**

**So, this is going to be fun. I love writing awkward conversations (as I've had so many myself).**

**So, onto the chapter!**

**Review! Please! Nine more and this'll be the highest reviewed story in the Matched archive! Please!**

**Disclaimer: I walked into a door frame, I think I'm going to have a black eye, which is just great. I got hit in the leg with a hockeyball today. I wasn't even playing hockey. I tripped on the stairs, in front of twenty other people, nineteen of whom kept walking. The one who stayed behind couldn't walk because she was laughing so hard. I was skipping down the hallway in school,when I tripped over my own two feet, twisted my ankle, skinned my knees, whacked my head off the wall. And I dropped my lollipop, that sucked. I fell through a door, because I didn't know it opened both ways. It swung back and hit me on the bounced back and hit me again. On a completely unrelated subject, I don't own Matched…**

_Just sort,_ I tell myself,_ nothing else, don't think about anything else, just the numbers._

The Sort starts out easy, like always.

Easy patterns to sort into minimal categories.

They always start easy, so you don't feel overwhelmed.

They don't throw you in the deep end.

Unless, of course, you're about to meet your future wife, in which case you see her for twenty seconds on a screen and then you get to talk to her for an hour a month later.

_The numbers, that's what you're supposed to be thinking about now!_

The Sort starts to get more complicated, more intricate patterns, faster with more categories.

I finally get into that place when all I see are the numbers, where nothing else matters.

Which is good, because the Officials are monitoring us. Constantly.

A lot is expected of me. Too much, but who cares about how much pressure I feel?

(No one, the answer to that question is no one.)

So many people want me to be as good as my parents.

My parents included. They want the most out of me.

But I push these annoyed thoughts out of my head as I continue to sort.

Another category is added, and the pattern of numbers changes, my fingers hesitate a second before returning to their steady rhythm.

Finally, the Sort is almost over, they never have more than fifteen categories, and the numbers are going as fast as they can go.

Good, because I'm getting a headache.

When it's over I stand up and stretch. Crouching over a port screen for an hour or so makes my shoulders and neck ache. Another downside to being tall.

After the Official dismisses our group, I wait in the game centre for Louise.

She works in the arboretum. Sam, John and I like to tease her that she spends all day watering flowers and she, ninety nine times out of a hundred, goes into a long speech about how difficult working in the arboretum is, and how we wouldn't last a day.

Then, when we scoff and tell her all she does is go around and smell the roses, she resorts to physical violence.

She's a great friend, really.

She bursts into the game centre, and runs over to me.

'Oh-my-gosh-Ayden-I-can't-believe-that-we-get-to-m eet-them-soon! I'm-so-nervous! What-if-he-doesn't-like-me?'

'Lou! _Louise_!' I laugh.

Louise can sometimes be a bit… hyper.

'I-can't-believe-we-can't-wear-something-prettier- than-plainclothes-I-hate-brown-'

'I could really say anything and you'd keep talking, right?' I ask, as she continues to babble nineteen to the dozen. She is speaking so quickly I can barely understand her.

'I-can't-believe-it's-been-a-month-since-our-banqu ets-'

'I'm going to jump in the sea holding a boulder. Thoughts?'

'I-mean-it-seems-like-the-other-_day_-when-we-were-about-to-go-to-our-banquets-'

'I'm going to hack into the Official's ports and change our Matching data. How do you feel about that?'

'And-before-we-know-it-we'll-be-meeting-them-oh-go sh-I'm-nervous-enough-without-thinking-about-that! '

'Louise!' I yell, getting a lot of weird looks from the people around us.

'Oh, I'm sorry Ayden, did you say something?' Louise asks absent-mindedly.

I need some new friends.

I sigh, just as Sam and John appear.

'I'm walking away from you now, ok?' I tell her.

She huffs moodily.

I walk over to where John and Sam stand.

'How is she?' John asks amusedly, inclining his chin to where Louise stands, now talking to a group of girls.

'The usual,' I grin.

'I'd say hi, but I don't have enough energy,' Sam muttered, sitting down.

'Dad said we'll be called about ten minutes from now,' I say, having glanced at the clock.

Dad is the Head Official for the Matching department in Acadia.

'Oh, boy,' John says, running a hand nervously through his hair.

'Nervous, Johnny?' I ask.

'No. No. Not at all… You?'

I shrug.

_Yes, terrified. Completely and utterly terrified. But y'know… fine…_ I thought to myself.

'Not really,' I muttered.

'Calm down, Ayden, you're drawing attention to yourself,' John says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes. I'm known for- in Sam and John's words- "under reacting about everything". I'm just not good at showing "emotions".

'What about you?' John asks Sam.

He doesn't answer.

'Sam,' John hisses in Sam's ear.

Sam jumps, and I'm getting weird stares for the second time today.

'Sorry.' Sam says, grinning sheepishly, 'Lost in thought,'

'Unfamiliar territory for you,' I comment.

'Shut up, Ayden,'

I held up my hands in mock defeat.

'You live in your own little world, don't you?' John said with false innocence.

'It's ok, though, they know me there,' Sam replies, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm of his own.

We wouldn't be friends if we weren't so sarcastic about everything. It's nice to bond over something that's so near and dear to our hearts.

'Of course they do,' I mutter sarcastically. 'What were you thinking so hard about?'

'The same thing you're thinking about,' Sam replies, obviously referring to the whole "meeting out future life partners in less than five minutes with no prior interaction" thing.

'Need advice?' John asks with enthusiasm that is undoubtedly fake.

'Sure,' Sam responds cautiously.

'Ayden, give the man some advice,' John says earnestly.

'I don't do advice, may I interest you in a sarcastic comment?'

'I'll pass,' Sam mutters, just as an announcement sounds throughout the game room.

'Citizens who are having their port to port communication with their Matches please return to their houses and await further instruction. Thank you,'

'I'll actually take that advice now,' Sam says.

'No chance,' I respond.

As we make our way to out Borough, having ditched Louise when she got annoying, we walk in silence.

Which happens once every year or so.

My house is first, so I say goodbye to my oddly quiet friends and go into my house.

It's empty.

I sit down next to the port, where a message has been typed.

It tells me that I'd be talking to her by face to face port in less than ten minutes and that we would have an hour to speak.

Right, I think to myself, don't mess this up. Messing this up would be bad. Very bad.

I'm probably going to mess this up.

Oh, well, what's the worst that can happen?

An wide array of worst things that could happen run through my mind, before I remember it was rhetorical.

Your Match will appear on screen in one minute. the message says

Okeydokey, this is going to end badly. Really, really badly.

I drum my fingers on the table next to the port screen.

All of a sudden, her face is on screen.

Clara.

My ear jumps into my throat.

She's staring at the floor, her glasses slipping down her nose.

She moves to adjust them and jumps, a loud, long shriek escaping her lips when she sees the port.

Well.

That's a bad start.

'Oh, gosh, sorry. I just got a shock, be-because I didn't know that port turned on and- um, I… oh, jeez, sorry about that,'

I bite back a laugh, 'It's fine,'

She laughs slightly, her face flooding with colour.

'That was a bad start,' she mutters.

'Not great,' I agree.

_That's right, offend her_, I mentally kick myself.

She laughs again, glancing down at the floor.

'Not make a fool of myself was on the top of my to do list today, you know?'

'Is not screaming on there, too?'

'No.' she says, looking up, 'I didn't think I'd need to tell myself not to scream. I was wrong,'

'Would you like to start over?'

'Please.'

I clear my throat.

She smiles amusedly before replacing it with a brighter smile.

'Oh, Ayden it's so nice to finally meet you!' she says enthusiastically.

I can't help but burst into peals of laughter.

She groans and covers her face with her hands.

'This isn't funny!' her voice is muffled, as she continues to speak, 'this was supposed to go better. I wasn't supposed to be an idiot. You weren't supposed to be laughing!'

'Right. Sorry. My bad… One last time?'

'Three's the charm,' she mumbles, taking her hands away from her face, which is now bright red from chin to hairline.

'Right.' I clear my throat again.

This is a lot more fun than I thought it would be. There's, well, a lot of awkwardness, but at least we're not sitting in uncomfortable silence, occasionally mumbling nonsense about the weather.

And her having minor heart failure made me forget how nervous I am.

That's good. The minor heart failure was not.

'Hi, Clara, it's really nice to meet you at last,'

She giggled nervously, 'It's nice to meet you, too. I was really looking forward to this,'

I grin, 'Me, too,'

She smiles, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Nailed it!' I grin.

'Finally. Took us long enough,'

Now that her embarrassment is gone, she's looking nervous.

'It really is nice to meet you,' she says.

'I'm sorry I gave you heart failure,'

'It's fine… Heart failure would be fascinating,' she adds thoughtfully.

_Occupation: Medic._

I remember reading that on the port.

'Not if it's happening to you,' I point out.

'Oh, yeah, yeah of course. Um,' she blushes awkwardly again, 'I'm training to be a Medic. Stuff like that's interesting… to me,'

I nod, not sure what to say to that.

'You're a Sorter, right?'

'Yeah.' I say. I don't have the same interest in my work as she does with hers.

'Are you having your final evaluation soon?' she asks.

'A month from tomorrow, actually,' I say.

'Wow, that's close. Mine's in three months. They still haven't let me stitch up a cadaver yet, though,'

'What are you working on, then?'

'Oranges.'

'You give fruit transplants?' I tease.

'Yeah, I guess I do. What type of Sorting are you going to do?'

She's far more interested in this than I thought she'd be.

'Matching. My dad's the head of the Matching department. My mum works in occupation Sorting,'

'My whole family work in the arboretum,' she offers.

'Like, with flowers?' I ask.

'Grain,' she says, 'but it sure is fun to tease my brothers that they spend all their time in rose gardens,'

'I'm sure they appreciate that,'

She shrugs, 'I'm not the only one. My sisters are in on it too,'

_Siblings: Laura and Lana, twins._

_Damian and Darren, twins._

'My brothers are Sorters, too. It's a family thing,' I add, slightly sarcastically.

'That must be nice,' she says thoughtfully, her brow furrowing as she thinks about something I said.

'Everyone thinks I'm weird, with the medical thing,' she says.

'Why?'

'I'm the first Medic in my family. They think it's… just weird,' she scrunches up her nose slightly, 'I like it, though,'

'Then does it matter what they think?'

Her face breaks into a smile and for the first time, I take in how pretty she is, her teal eyes bright.

'I guess not,'

A cool, detached female voice that's obviously a recording says, 'Fifteen minutes gone,'

The time's going surprisingly fast.

Clara smiles, 'Now that, that must be a boring job. Sitting in a room and telling people how much time they have left on their port chats,'

'I, uh, I think it was a recording,'

'I was kidding,'

'Oh. Oh, right.'

'I think I should say now that I'm not particularly funny,' she states.

'I dunno, the start of this was pretty hilarious,' I say.

She rolls her eyes, 'Aside from making a fool out of myself, I'm not particularly funny,'

'I'm sure that's not true,'

She gives me a look that's startlingly like the sort that would grace my mother's face when my brothers or I would do something stupid and we say we didn't do it. It's the _if-I-believed-what-you-just-said-we'd-both-be-idio ts_ look.

'Ok,' I allow, 'If you're not funny what are you?'

She thinks this over for a moment, 'Smart,' she says finally. 'What about you?'

'I'm sarcastic,' I state.

'Oh?'

'I didn't invent sarcasm, but I perfected it,'

'That would look sound great in your job application interview,' she says, sniggering slightly. I didn't think she'd find that funny.

Every person has to have a final interview with the Head Official of whichever department they want to be employed by.

It's supposed to be a good life skill, communication. I can't help but agree. I'd love to be able to communicate better than I am now.

'Yes, sarcasm will get me a job,'

She nods solemnly.

We talk about what we're going to have to do in our final test, and decide having to do a practical Sort is a lot easier than a two hour exam on a scribe and three different practical tests.

The voice tells us we have half an hour left and we decide to call the woman Nora. Well, I do.

'Thank you, Nora,' I say after she states how much time we have left.

'Nora?'

'She sounds like a Nora,'

'I thought she isn't real,'

'You said she is,'

'That doesn't mean she is,'

'You convinced me,'

'Fine. Thank you, Nora,'

We spend the next fifteen minutes talking about our families. She's the youngest in her family, too. Her brothers are getting married next year and her sisters, the year after.

I tell her Austin is getting married the same year as her brothers and Alec, the same year as her sisters.

Nora tells us we have fifteen minutes left.

We thank Nora.

She asks me about Acadia, saying the farmlands are boring.

'Do you get to go to the sea often?' she asks eagerly.

'We can spend free rec hours there. If we want to swim, though, there are specific slots for that. You have to sign up for them,'

'So you can't go whenever you want to?'

'You can… if you're sneaky.' I grin.

'So… it's against the rules,'

'Yeah.'

'Ok,' she says simply, as though the idea doesn't bother her.

She's in the middle of telling me a story about the annoying girl who's training to be a Medic with her when Nora tells us we have five minutes left.

'Nora, I feel like you're interrupting out conversation. This is private,' Clara says.

'Are you jealous of Nora?' I tease.

She rolls her eyes, 'Yes. I'm jealous of Nora,' she says sarcastically.

She's not so bad at sarcasm, herself.

'Don't be. She's no competition.'

'Well, thank you,' she scoffed.

'Well, it was really nice talking to you,' I said.

'I'm sorry I screamed,' she said, her cheeks turning pink at the memory.

'It's fine. I mean, my ego is wounded beyond repair, but it's fine,' I pretend to sound hurt.

She scoffs, 'Your ego is fine,'

'Nope, I won't be able to face myself in the mirror anymore,'

She rolls her eyes, 'Now, don't be ridiculous.'

'How am I being ridiculous?' I ask innocently.

'You're pretending you don't look like- like-' she gestures to the port screen, and, I assume, my face, 'Like _that_!'

'Like what?' I wonder, honestly curious.

'Like _that_!' she repeats, 'All I've been hearing all day is about how _good looking_ my Match is!'

'Well, now you can tell them all about my horrendous personality and terrible social skills,' I mumble uncomfortably.

She laughs, her eyes sparkling.

'I don't think I will,' she says.

'Ok, up to you. But it sounds to me like Poplar is more jealous of you than you are of Nora,' I tease, referring to her annoying work colleague.

'You wish,' she says, as a countdown clock appears on the corner of the screen. A countdown from one minute.

'Well good luck in your final evaluation,' she smiled.

'Thanks,' I grin.

'When do we get to talk again?'

'In a month,' I try not to sound disappointed, but she didn't try to hide her frown. That made me grin.

She sighed, 'It was really nice talking to you, finally,'

'You, too,' I say.

'I won't have a panic attack next time,'

'Here's hoping,'

The last thing I see before the screen fades is her rolling her eyes.

I rest my forehead on the table, unable to repress the smile that spread across my face.

Oh, yeah. I was definitely a goner, all right.


End file.
